The High Water Mark
by Thomas Ford
Summary: The second chapter is up! Please R
1. The Boys in Blue

Disclaimer: The book "The Killer Angels" was written my Micheal Shaara.  
  
I do not own it or any portion of it.  
  
Chapter 1: The Boys in Blue  
  
Sergeant William Cole of the 12th New Jersey Comapany D marched with his  
  
unit, calling cadence, "One! One! One, two, one!"  
  
They were on their way to a town called Gettysburg where, apparently, a bit  
  
of a fuss was being stired up. The fight for the states was becoming increasingly  
  
bigger everyday and this worried Cole.  
  
The musket in the hands of Cole at shoulder arms was an 1842 Sprinfield 69 caliber  
  
smoothbore. It felt heavy and weighed down his arm. He called, "Right shoulder shift!   
  
Arms!" and the unit brought the guns up to their right shoulders with the lockplate up  
  
and their hands on the butt. It was a rather comfortable position.  
  
The 12th New Jersey was a relatively new regiment in 1863. They first saw action in   
  
Chancellorsville tow months prior to Gettysburg. Now they were on their way to deal with   
  
the greybacks once again.  
  
The sun was setting and it looked pretty on the horizon of a wheat field just beginning to  
  
sprout summer wheat. The regiment would soon set up camp for a chance to rest before they   
  
made their march into the town and drove the rebels back down south.  
  
AFTER A MILE OR SO the Lieutenant Colonel halted the regiment and told them to set up the   
  
camp and they did so. Each unit in their designated place along the field lined dirt road.  
  
When the camps were set up fires started to roar and meals were prepared. Willaim Cole just   
  
had hard tack and coffee. His stomach was a bit unsettled from the long marches and endless  
  
drills. Now, with more death on the horizon, he was nearly unable to eat.  
  
"Hey, Sergeant!" a private called in his Irish accent.  
  
"Yes, Private?" Cole said. His tall frame standing. The fire really accented his features.   
  
Brown hair sat atop a slightly slanted forehead under his kepi and above his striking sapphire   
  
blue eyes.  
  
"Why don't you come play some poker with us? The first lieutenant is in on it, too."  
  
William let the idea roll around in his mind before he spoke, "I guess I'll come and play."   
  
He followed the private over to the set up table and sat down. He anted up and was dealt in.   
  
His five cards held two-pair.  
  
"Check," the lieutenant.  
  
"Now, I am to assume that this is a clean game, correct?" William said as he produced an 1853  
  
Pocket Police 36 caliber pistol. "If any of you cheat me..."   
  
"It's clean," the Irish accented private named Dael McCrain said. "Put that thing away."  
  
William laughed and pocketed the pistol. "Check," he said.  
  
The night went on much like that. In the morning, though, the tents would be struck and the Union  
  
boys would march onto Gettysburg; onto the fields of death. 


	2. The First Day of Reality

Disclaimer: The book "The Killer Angels" was written my Micheal Shaara.  
  
I do not own it or any portion of it.  
  
Chapter 2: The First Day of Reality  
  
The 12th New Jersey struck the tents after breakfast the next  
  
morning. Gettysburg was still a two day march. It was smooth relatively  
  
flat ground to march on, but in those leather boots named brogans it   
  
could be pure hell.  
  
The morning of July the 1st 1863 was a hot one. Unusually hot.  
  
The tempurature was up over 80 degrees. It was very humid too and that  
  
made things especially worse in the Union wool uniforms. Some men would  
  
succumb to the heat before they even reached the rebels.  
  
4th Sergeant William Cole slung his canteen over his shoulders  
  
and picked up his musket. It was time to move out. He had rested long   
  
enough. When he got back in line, they immediately started to march   
  
with the wagons in tow. It was a day that would long be remembered in  
  
the history of the United States. Somehow, William knew that July 1st   
  
would be the start of the battle of Gettysburg.   
  
As the 12th marched on, William wondered what kind of battle  
  
this would really be. Would it be bloody? A skirmish? One that wouldn't  
  
even go in the history books? Well, he would find out in a couple of   
  
days.  
  
THE 6 POUND NAPOLEON CANNON FIRED, sending a ball of lead   
  
downfield that would explode when it hit the ground. Buford's cavalry  
  
brigades spread along the fence and got a good position to fire into   
  
the on coming Confederate troops. In their midst was General John   
  
Buford on his horse giving orders to an aide to tell Devon all reserve  
  
forward now. And the aide rode off to relay the order.  
  
  
  
Genral Reynolds should be arriving soon, thought Buford. He   
  
told an aide he was going up to the top of the college and he did so.  
  
Reynolds will be here, thought Buford.  
  
  
  
And Major General John Reynolds arrived and brought his corps   
  
up with him and together Buford and Reynolds held off the Confederates  
  
until General Reynolds was shot by a sniper. The Confederates swept the   
  
1st day of Gettysburg.  
  
4TH SERGEANT WILLIAM COLE had no knowledge of what was going on  
  
in Gettysburg. He could have no knowledge of it. All he knew was to   
  
march, march, march.   
  
The route step was called and William fell out of step and   
  
switched the musket to the other arm. He was thankful for the break.  
  
"Sergeant Cole," a call for William from behind him in the   
  
ranks. It sounded a little like Dael.  
  
"Yes?" Willaim said. He now carried the musket slung behind his  
  
shoulders. It was dreadfully hot and his cotton undershirt was soaked.  
  
"How much farther?" the voice asked and William automatically   
  
knew that it was not Dael.  
  
William looked towards the Captain. "Sir, permission to move   
  
to rear to talk to the private?"  
  
"Granted," the Captain said shortly and Willaim stepped out of   
  
line and walked to Dael.  
  
"Who asked me that, Private?" William asked his trustworthy   
  
snitch. Dael was easier to manipulate that McClellan.  
  
"Private Stratton, Sergeant," Dael said.   
  
"Thank you, Private." William looked to the young man named  
  
Stratton who was in his platoon. "Private Stratton, would you please   
  
step out of the ranks and come here?"  
  
The private walked nervously to William who stopped by the side   
  
of the road. Cole merely glanced down at the private. "Never, ever, ask  
  
that. We'll get there when we do. Back in line." The two hustled back   
  
to the unit and each resumed their positions.  
  
The 12th New Jersey would arrive at Gettysburg on July the 2nd  
  
of 1863 and then the Confederates would learn who to fear, well, at   
  
least according to the Captain.   
  
Solemnly, the boys in blue, soaked in sweat from head to toe,   
  
marched on. It would be soon that they would taste battle again. 


End file.
